Madara stared down at the piece of paper in his hand, his grip on the paper tightening slightly. Hashirama wrote it, there was no denying that. The brown haired man had a style of writing that one just knew by reading, even if it was a just a glance. His expression hardened, it was easy to tell what the Uchiha was thinking.
He felt hurt, betrayed, almost.
He had known this would happen. He knew he would fall for her. That red haired women.
How long, Hashirama? How long had it been since you fell for that wrench? Madara questioned silently.
He was an Uchiha. Their greatest flaw was love. One could call it a curse of sorts. Yes, indeed, this was a curse. First, the gods took Izuna.. And now, they had the audacity to take Hashirama too.
He let his guard down, he knew. He fell for that man, hook line and sinker, as the saying went. He wasn't his to take. That's what pissed him off. The system, flawed as it was, should have seen this coming. Hashirama should've known, that building a village would tear them apart.
Still, who could blame him? Madara thought. It's not like the bastard knew what he was pulling them apart.
Madara left Konohagakure, eventually. He wasn't needed. Not by the flawed system (Who would surely select Tobirama as the next Hokage), and certainly not by Hashirama himself. That was made abundantly clear by that wrench. Uzumaki Mito, a women from the land of Eddies.
He could kill her. One day. But no. He had seen Hashirama mad. Once. Madara smiled slightly at the memory. Aah, what a day that was. Tobirama no longer stole Hashirama's pens after that incident. Madara smiled all day, that particular day. It scared nearly everyone in the village. The oaf was pleased.
"Ne, did something happen Madara?" Hashirama asked him, smiling, as usual.
Madara nearly frowned. Fuck. His smile was way too bright. "Hn. Something /good/ happened."
The wind picked up suddenly. Madara saw his chance, and raised his arms into the air, letting the paper fly. The cliff he was standing on looked out into nothing but forest.
How nostalgic, Hashirama. Madara thought, his smile fading.
Somewhere in Konohagakure, Hashirama was taking his daily walk around the village. He smiled, of course, as he was expected to, but part of him felt empty. He stopped in his tracks, as the wind picked up. He looked skywards, and saw them- the leaves dancing in the wind. One leaf in particular had a hole in the center. It was small, the hole, but Hashirama's mind strayed to Madara. He felt his eyes stinging. He knew then what was missing, but it was far too late.